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Sermon on the Mount

written by: lagoondry



Can one not call this urge I feel a hymn?

A plea of pleasure sung from lips of prayer.

To which The Light within you points me where,

Cravings and worship form a synonym.

Hearing your purity beneath your robe,

Move with these rhymes to base your rhythm on,

Your body pledges (hope) thy Kingdom come,

Helping along my fingers as they probe.

Ending my mount, I count ways to exalt,

A pulse that fills fulfilment in your woes.

Releasing rain from skin onto our clothes,

Then you anoint me with your oil and salt.


It's Holy image that we imitate,

To those insisting that I vindicate.



Hey all,

My alias is lagoondry and I'm a science teacher from South London.

I'm looking to produce a collection of secular poems, short stories and novels. Humans are spiritual creatures, even though I think spirits do not exist. My aim so to produce art that nourishes the spiritual modules of the non-believer.

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